


things we never said

by disaster_tiefling



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daisy and Peter Lukas are mentioned but they don't talk, M/M, spoilers through MAG 132, what if Jon made a tape just for Martin before going into the coffin?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21789406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_tiefling/pseuds/disaster_tiefling
Summary: He didn’t listen to the tapes Jon left for him, but he never got rid of them. He had a box slowly filling up with them in a storage closet, in the hope that one day he would get a chance to hear them. He set down the files he’d been carrying and moved to pick up the recorder-And he stopped. There was a note. There was never a note, but apparently something warranted a note this time. Just a few words on a scrap of paper, in an all-to-familiar scrawled handwriting:I’m sorry.-Jonathan
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 7
Kudos: 213





	things we never said

It’s fairly late into the evening by the time Martin gets done with all the tasks Peter Lukas had given to him, late enough that there’s no one else in the Institute. Martin suspects that was rather the point, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. If this is what he has to do to keep Jon and his friends safe, then he’ll do it. Another day of pointless, isolating tasks and keeping the Institute running isn’t going to stop him.

He’s walking down the hallway to his office when he thinks about how he’s grown more used to this odd, abandoned version of the Institute late at night. Only the scattered security lights left on to chase away some of the shadows, and eerily quiet. He thinks about how the last time he was regularly seeing the Institute like this was back before Prentiss attacked them. He’d never imagined he would miss that time, but… well. Things change.

He opens the door to his office and flicks the lights on, then stops abruptly. Something's off. Not in the ‘something-spooky-in-the-shadows’ way, but in that way that you can tell when someone’s been in a place they don’t belong.

Then he sees the tape recorder on his desk. He sighs as he looks at it. They’ve been appearing at least once a week on his desk ever since Jon woke up. There’s always a tape in them, clearly meant to be played and listened to. Jon’s way of trying to communicate with him. He’s never listened to any of them.

What he does do is imagine what sort of messages Jon must be leaving for him, what he deems important enough to tell Martin. Maybe they’re recordings of statements he thinks would help. Maybe he’s trying to update him on what he’s learning about the other rituals of the Entities, and what they’re doing to stop them. Maybe they’re simply asking about Peter Lukas and his plans. And way down deep, tucked away safely, a small part of him thinks that maybe Jon just wants to talk to him. That maybe he hadn’t imagined that heartbroken look on his face after their last conversation. But that could be a dangerous game. 

He didn’t listen to the tapes Jon left for him, but he never got rid of them. He had a box slowly filling up with them in a storage closet, in the hope that one day he would get a chance to hear them. He set down the files he’d been carrying and moved to pick up the recorder-

And he stopped. There was a note. There was never a note, but apparently something warranted a note this time. Just a few words on a scrap of paper, in an all-to-familiar scrawled handwriting:

_ I’m sorry. _

_ -Jonathan _

Martin’s stomach drops. This feels wrong. Something is definitely wrong here. He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s going to find out. He sits down at his desk, and presses play.

* * *

[sounds of movement, a long sigh] Hi, Martin. It’s, um. Well, I’d say it’s nice to talk to you, but I don’t suppose you’re more likely to listen to this than any of the other tapes I’ve left you. Or rather, maybe you listen to them and you just don’t want to talk to me. That’s fine. I don’t deserve any more than that. But if there was going to be any message from me that you would listen to, I hope it would be this one. I want to get a few things off my chest. 

I don’t know how much you know about what’s been going on in the Archives since you left. I don’t know if Peter tells you anything about us. So in case he doesn’t, here it is: Daisy isn’t dead. A few weeks ago the surviving half of Breekon & Hope brought the coffin to us. He mentioned something about what he did to Daisy, and I, um… I took his statement. By force. So I learned that after Daisy killed Hope, Breekon threw her into the coffin. Into the Buried.

I told Basira of course. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up too much, because who knows if we can even get her out after this long. I had an idea, but she didn’t like it and forbid me from doing it. But she’s been gone for a few weeks now on one of her trips she won’t tell me about, so I… I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to go in there and get her back.

I’ve done some research, I’ll be fine as long as I’ve got my anchor. I have Jared Hopworth of all people to thank for that. 

Basira didn’t like that part of the plan, she said to wait until she got back so we could come up with a better one together. But every hour we wait is another hour that Daisy has to spend in there. She doesn’t think I’m the best choice to send in either, as Daisy  _ was _ trying to kill me. But I don’t care. I’m not losing anyone else. I  _ can’t _ lose anyone else. Basira says trying to get Daisy out at the risk of losing me isn’t a good trade, but I don’t think so. [bitter laugh] Even if I fail, all that means is one less monster in the world. You’ll all be fine.

So yes, I’m going into the Buried after Daisy, and no, I don’t really care that I might not make it back. I don’t care if that’s going against Basira’s request. The only thing I really wanted to do was- well, I wanted to talk to you. I know that won’t happen and that’s fine, you’re doing what you need to do. I made a tape for Basira and Melanie to let them know what happened if I don’t come out, but I needed to make one just for you. If I don’t make it back, I don’t want you not knowing why. I  _ can’t _ become another one of these bloody mysteries.

Even though I know you’ll never hear this tape, I just want to say this to you directly. You’re the only one left from the very beginning of all this, and I am so grateful for that. Every time I was scared, or angry, or didn’t know what to do next, you were there for me. I can never apologize enough for how I treated you at the start, but I hoped I could make up for it. After Prentiss you put up with my undeserved accusations and paranoia, and after Elias killed Leitner you never believed I was the one who did it. You put your trust in me so many times that I owed it to you to trust you in your plans, whether it was distracting Elias while we stopped the Unknowing, or working with the Lonely now. Christ, Martin, when I woke up and Basira told me you were gone… I panicked. I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it. I wish we had the time to make this right again. But maybe it’s too late for that.

I- [voice breaks a bit]...I’m sorry, Martin. I am  _ so _ sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.

I’ll miss you.

[click]

* * *

Martin sits there for a moment, too stunned to do anything. He doesn’t know how long this tape was sitting on his desk before he noticed it. It could have been left here 30 minutes ago, or several hours, he had no way of knowing.

But he listened. And here he was, just sitting and thinking  _ Why couldn’t he have just waited _ , then he thinks  _ maybe it’s not too late _ . And he gets up, grabbing the tape recorder, and sprints down to the Archives.

He bursts in the door and doesn’t see anyone immediately. Not even the coffin. He runs down to the storage room and throws the door open.

There’s just the coffin, chains removed and on the floor, and Basira.

“So you got one too then,” she says, not looking entirely pleased.

“I-I… what did he  _ do _ ?” Martin asks breathlessly. 

“He went through with one of his half-assed plans again, because no one was here to watch him. So now we’ve got 2 people in that thing and no way to get them out again.” Martin couldn’t say if those were tears of sadness or frustration shining at the corners of her eyes. He didn’t ask.

What he did do was remember Peter’s rules for him about interacting with the archival staff. He wanted to stay, but he knew what the consequences would be if he did.

“Well, hopefully he can get himself out of his own mess again.” He begins to back up towards the door. “Listen, I’ve got to-”

“Got to leave, yeah, I know. But just listen for a second, yeah?”

Martin just begins to shake his head and move back, but Basira storms towards him and blocks the door. “No!,” she shouts. “No, you listen here. Your  _ friend _ is in there.” She jabs a hand at the coffin. “Do you know why? He doesn’t want to lose anyone else, and he thinks it won’t matter if he dies doing this because he’s supposedly a ‘monster’ or whatever.”

Martin quickly backs up from the sheer force of the anger in her voice, only stopping when he hits one of the bookshelves lining the room. Basira doesn’t let this stop her. “And yeah, maybe he isn’t human anymore. But he  _ is _ still a person. I know you’re upset and angry at him, I am too, we have every right to be. But he went in there to save Daisy for me, Martin. He didn’t care that he might die saving someone who only wanted to kill him. That  _ has _ to count for something.”

Then Martin sees most of the fury melt out from her, until all that's left is a deep, heavy sadness. Maybe some of those tears were sadness after all. “I was with Jon when he woke up. I had to tell him what you had done and explain that you were gone. You didn’t see how hard that hit him, Martin. And I-” her voice breaks a bit, and she stops to compose herself. “I don’t think he’s going to last much longer if he doesn’t think there’s anyone in his corner fighting for him. I just… I don’t want you to wake up some time after it’s too late and regret how you left things with him. Just. Just think about it, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer from him. He doesn’t think he could give one anyway. She just shoves roughly past him back out into the Archives proper, leaving him alone in an empty room.

* * *

He stays for a while after that. At least he can keep watch over the coffin, look for any signs that Jon might make it back. Technically speaking, he isn’t breaking Peter’s rules. He and Basira and Melanie are never in the room at the same time. They just sort of silently agreed to take up shifts for watching the coffin. Melanie leaves a note in the room next to a rib bone, explaining how Jon thought he could use it for an anchor. It doesn’t seem to be working.

Two days go by. In between his shifts with the coffin he gets some rest and does whatever menial tasks Peter gives him. And when it's his turn to watch he just thinks about Jon. He thinks about what he should have done differently, whether he should have gone to Peter at all. He thinks about how much he missed Jon while he was in his coma, and how much more he missed him when he knew Jon was awake but couldn’t go to see him. He thinks about all the tapes Jon left for him, never giving up that last bit of hope and trust in him. He thinks about what will happen if Jon  _ doesn’t _ come back.

He would cry, but he rather thinks he’s run out of tears at this point.

So it happens on the third day. It’s his shift with the coffin, and it’s going exactly the same as the others. He sorts through the random boxes and comes up with a box of tapes Jon had recorded. He just looks at them, reading the labels, when it comes to him. Thinking back on it, he isn’t sure that it was all  _ his _ idea (he’s got marks from a few different Entities too, same as Jon), but that doesn’t matter. It's an idea all the same, one that just might work.

He gathers up as many recorders as he can find, a couple dozen in all, and inserts the tapes. He sets them up around the coffin, even a couple right on top, pressing play on all of them. A cacophony of sound echoes in the room now. Statements to call the Archivist home.

Maybe Jon’s attachment to his humanity isn’t strong enough anymore for him to be drawn to even a physical piece of himself. But Jon thinks he’s more Archivist then human now anyway. Maybe that’s the side Martin needs to appeal to.

He’s there waiting for a few hours. Just when he’s about to give up and shut the recorders off, there’s a distinct  _ thump _ from the coffin. Martin jumps up to his feet, hardly believing his ears. He’s beginning to think he was just hearing things when there is another  _ thump _ , then the lid of the coffin flies open.

Almost by instinct, Martin leans into the Lonely. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t know who is coming out, or what sort of state they’ll be in. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

A hand reaches up and grabs onto the edge of the coffin, dark skinned and familiar. Jon pulls himself halfway up, coughing horribly. Then he pulls up his other arm, and there’s Daisy too. They both pull themselves out and tumble over the edge onto the floor, alternating between gasping for breath and trying to cough up all the dirt in their lungs. They’re back, they’re  _ alive _ . 

He doesn’t come out of the Lonely. He watches them for a moment as they take in their surroundings, and marvel at the recorders playing statements. Then Basira, having heard the commotion, bursts in the door and yells at Jon before taking in the fact that Daisy is here. Martin uses the distraction to slip out of the room. They don’t need him here anymore.

He misses the way Jon’s gaze lingers on the corner he’d been in.

* * *

It’s been a week since Jon came back out of the Buried. In that time, Martin hasn’t been back down to the Archives even once, hasn’t spoken to anyone other than Peter. He wonders what they’re doing, of course he does, but they don’t need him hovering. He has his own work to do anyway.

It’s another late night researching the Extinction, and the words of the statement he’s reading are growing more difficult to focus on. He isn’t even processing them anymore.

Martin is so focused on trying to read that he doesn’t hear the footsteps coming down the hall, and he certainly is paying attention when the door of his office is thrown open.

Jon is standing there, looking even more manic and exhausted than Martin has ever seen him, one hand braced on the door frame as if to block the way out. His gaze falls on Martin, and he can tell it isn’t the Eye’s influence, but he is being  _ seen _ .

“I know you were there when I came out of the coffin. What are you doing, Martin?”

Well, that’s probably a valid question. Even if it is a bit vague. “I’m working, Jon. Now please just go-”

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No.” Jon repeats, straightening up a bit. “No, I’m not leaving. And you know I’m not asking about your job.”

Martin bristles a bit at the accusatory tone. “Then what do you mean?” Fine. If Jon’s going to be difficult, Martin can too.

“You don’t listen to the tapes.”

“I don’t, no. I put them in a box.”

“But you listened to the last one.”

“Yes, I thought that was pretty obvious.” Martin says with a shrug, as if this isn’t the only thing Jon has been hoping for the last few months.

Across the room, Jon slumps against the frame as if the effort he put into marching up here to accuse Martin has completely left him. Now he just looks like he hasn’t slept in far too long, his gaunt face and generally too-skinny body becoming readily apparent. Martin’s heart aches and he wishes he wasn’t too much of a coward to get up and hug him.

Jon makes the next move by coming up and slumping into one of the chairs sitting in front of the desk. Neither of them say anything for a minute or two, and with the way Jon is staring down at his feet, Martin is free to look at Jon and take in all the changes he sees from the last few months.

Jon is the next to speak. “Why?”

Martin sighs. At this rate they’ll never get through a conversation. “Why what?”

“Why did you listen to the last type?”

Martin scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Over a dozen tapes you left for me, and then one suddenly has an ominous note that just say  _ I’m sorry _ ? Of course I listened to it. I thought you’d probably done something stupid, and I was right.”

Jon looks up. “But why did you save me?”

‘Christ, Jon, do you even know why I’m doing any of this? Can’t you just look in my head or something if you really want to know?”

“I’d never do that to you,” Jon says quietly.

Martin stumbles for a second, but continues. “That’s- ok, fine. I saved you because you’re worth saving, to me at least. I wasn’t going to just leave you to the Buried.”

“I’m a monster though. You don’t save monsters.”

“Sure, maybe you’re a monster,” Martin begins, and he can see the way his words hit Jon. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t someone I care for. You deserve to be saved, Jon. And I’ll keep doing it if I have to.”

Jon looks stunned. He’s quiet while he searches for the right words to say next. “How did you know how to get me out?”

“I’m not sure.” Martin says. “I just felt like I had to do something, and I thought that turning on the tapes would call you back.”

“I- I don’t think it was the tapes that called me back.”

“But you didn’t come back until after I started them.What else could it have been?”

“You remember how I mentioned needing an anchor in the tape?” He pauses until Martin nods a confirmation. “Well, I thought that meant a physical anchor. Jared Hopworth took out two of my ribs and gave me one to use for the anchor, and I thought that would work. And I could sense it for a little while, but it quickly faded. It was long gone by the time I found Daisy in there.

“I was with her for a while when I felt something again, tugging me back, but much stronger this time. We climbed out of the coffin, and I honestly didn’t realize the statements were even playing. I think-” Jon stops and clears his throat, his face going a little pink. “I think maybe you were my anchor, Martin.”

Now it’s Martin’s turn to be dumbstruck. “But- but why would  _ I _ be your anchor?”

“I think… well, I’ve heard what everyone says about how you feel about me. And maybe- maybe I feel the same. About you.”

“Oh,” is all Martin can get out, then he winces. How very eloquent of him. Jon doesn’t seem to notice.

“So I don’t think the rib worked because I didn’t, well, I didn’t really care about it. And an anchor has to be something you really care about, so. Yeah. You were my anchor.” He twists his hands, then abruptly stands up. “Right, so that’s all I had to say, I’ll just leave you-”

“Wait!” Martin yelps, jumping up from his chair as Jon turns to leave. He doesn’t stop so Martin runs around his desk and grabs Jon by the wrist and spins him back around.

It wasn’t a great kiss, by most standards. It was rather sudden, and just a bit awkward, but Martin tries to convey all of his feelings from the past months into it: how much he missed Jon combined with the love that never really faded. It takes a moment- during which Martin panics because  _ holy shit maybe this was a stupid idea-  _ but then Jon is kissing him backs. His free hand comes up to rest on Martin’s shoulder. Eventually they part, but they stay close and rest their foreheads together.

“That was- I really wanted to do that for a long time,” Martin says.

“Me too,” Jon responds softly.

“What if- I need to stay with Peter Lukas for a while longer, to get more information but what if I need help to leave?” he asks.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Just, please trust me? Tell me what’s going on so I know how to help.”

“Okay.” Martin nods. “Okay. Let’s get you caught up on my research.”

“Alright,” Jon says, a soft smile on his lips. They drag another chair to Martin’s side of the desk and spend the next couple hours poring over various mentions of the Extinction, never once letting go of each other’s hand.


End file.
